


Love is not a victory march

by hellcsweetie



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28150833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellcsweetie/pseuds/hellcsweetie
Summary: “And what if I can't do that?”“Then you can march yourself down to Gibbs’s office in the morning and turn yourself in. But I don’t want you to do that.”“Why not?”“Because I think you’re worthy. And I don't wanna lose you.”
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Love is not a victory march

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s just pretend Mitchell doesn’t exist, okay? Okay!
> 
> Title and foreword come from “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen.

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

.

"And what if I can't do that?" Harvey asks, and she can hear a waver in his voice, like the mere idea of him and Mike being worthy of being saved is something deeply emotional for him. Like he doesn't believe it. He's leaning on the chair in front of him, looking completely hopeless, and her heart aches for him, for him to understand what she's trying to say.

"Then you can march yourself down to Gibbs’s office in the morning and turn yourself in," she replies, gaining traction because she needs him to listen to her. "But I don’t want you to do that.”

He lets his head hang, completely defeated, and he's nothing like she's ever seen him, an empty shell of the fighter she's known him to be. "Why not?" he practically whispers.

"Because _I_ think you're worthy," she whispers back, heart racing. She pauses, waits for him to find her eyes. "And I don't wanna lose you," she continues, shaking her head, pleading with him.

Harvey swallows, pushes himself back. He digs a hand into his pocket and turns around, shaking his head a bit, as if he's reluctant to agree with her.

"You don't understand," he argues, and she can hear him retreating from her, walling himself back up and preparing for battle.

"I do understand," she insists, standing up as well, walking towards him, "Because not too long ago it was me in that situation, and you were the one telling me to have faith."

"That was different."

"No, Harvey, that was _exactly_ the same," she insists and her voice breaks, breath ragged because he feels more and more decided and panic is welling inside of her, "Right to the point where I tell you what you told me." She pauses, swallows, ignores the warning signs in her head that have suddenly started blaring, urging her not to conclude her point. "That the thought of you going to prison makes me wanna drop to my knees."

His head snaps up and over his shoulder. She thinks maybe it's low to use his own words against him, but she's running out of options to tell him how much she cannot stand the idea of him going away. Even when she tried to leave him she couldn't manage more than a few feet down the hallway, where she worked for someone else but still saw him, looked out for him in the shadows, breathed in his presence. The mere thought of not having that was terrifying to her back then, when she was pissed and hurt and exhausted. Now that she's back in his orbit, it's even worse.

He can't go to jail. She wouldn't bear it.

He's looking deeply into her eyes, brows drawn together. She thinks she got through, from the way he seems conflicted again. It looks like he's deciding his next move, and she takes yet another step closer, silently begging him to choose her. He blinks, turns fully towards her. The air is charged between them, charged with desperation and regret and fear, but also with the electricity that always flows between them, the intense spark that never seems to escape them no matter the circumstance. 

Her skin starts to tingle, anticipation rattling her guts, and she wants to do something, say something, but she can't think of anything else. Their eyes search each other, carrying a mess of emotions so complex they can't fully untangle it and all they can do is keep looking, hoping the other won't break contact. Harvey swallows, and then his lips part and his eyes slip down, and it takes her a moment to realize he's looking at her own lips.

Her breathing picks up and the pull between them strengthens, energy crackling and drawing them together like magnets. She doesn't fully understand how it happens, but one moment she's staring at his mouth and the next he's stepping forward and connecting it to hers.

Her hands instantly find his cheeks, even if her brain takes a moment to catch up. The kiss is open from the start, betraying the desperation that has laced their interactions ever since he knocked on her door. His arms wind around her waist, pulling her close, and he towers over her a little, pressing them together.

Her fingers are tangled in his hair, tongue dancing with his as they taste each other after way too long. This doesn't feel real and it definitely doesn't feel sensible, the little voice in the back of her mind warns her, but it's becoming more and more clear to her that Harvey might actually do it, he might turn himself in, and if this is her last night with him, she doesn't want to be sensible.

She bites him bottom lip, tugs, pushes herself up to press her body further into his. His large hands dip below the valley of her spine, kneading her ass, and she muffles a whimper against his mouth when she feels pressure against her stomach.

He keeps kissing her with a hunger she's never experienced, sucking on her lips and sweeping her mouth, never stopping for air until she's almost light-headed from the lack of oxygen.

"Bedroom," she pants once his lips leave hers, trailing down her neck as his hand clears a path beneath her hair. She chose an inconvenient sweater and he's wearing a suit jacket and she just wants them both naked, wants to feel his skin on hers again. She directs him to her room, completely frenzied, because suddenly she can't think of anything other than having him.

Harvey tries to seize every second, kissing her jaw, her neck, sucking on her pulse point as he stumbles down her hallway, blinding following her guidance. Ordinarily she thinks she'd like to draw this out, enjoy foreplay and make sure they make up for all the time lost, but tonight isn't the start of something. If anything, it's the end, and endings don't allow for time and peace.

So when they reach her bed, kneeling together on it, she all but shoves his jacket off his shoulders, letting him take care of the sleeves as she moves to unbutton his shirt. They're kissing messily, tongues meeting mid-air, breathing each other's air. His hands slide up her sides beneath her top, waiting for her to finish with the buttons so he can strip her of it and she finally does, letting him pull the sweater up and off her before he shrugs out of his shirt.

His palms encase her bra-clad breasts, squeezing them hotly as he nibbles her earlobe. Donna moans lowly at the way he's crowding in on her, overtaking all her senses, and this is truly all she wants for the night, to drown in him. She enjoys his ministrations, raking her nails up his back, mouth latching on to his neck and shoulder, tasting the salt on his skin.

She wants him so much, and there's a part of her that resents this, the fact that they're here again because he might go to prison tomorrow. But the other part - the increasing part - is just so thrilled by his hands on her body that it couldn't care less why it's happening, just cares that it is. Her body certainly responds to this part, vibrating beneath his fingers, warm and sensitive. She can feel herself wet, her core pulsating in preparation for him.

He unclasps her bra, moving to tease her nipples with his tongue, and she moans as she arches her back. One hand comes to hold his head close, keep him attached to her, as the other goes down and struggles to unbutton his pants. He stays on her breasts, running his tongue down the swell of her left one on his way to the right, but his hands come to her aid, opening the garment and hastily pushing it down below his hips. Donna dips her palms beneath the waistband of his boxers, digging her nails into his ass as he tugs on her nipple with his teeth, soothing the sting with his tongue.

She lowers the briefs, wrapping her palm around his cock, pumping it a few times. She once again wishes they could take their time; she would like to tease him, wrap her lips around him, feel his ridges and veins against her tongue, but she doesn't know how much time they have, how long the spell will last, and more than anything she needs him inside her. She pumps him again, and his forehead comes to rest on her shoulder, his hot exhale ghosting her skin and making a flash of damp reach her panties.

He must feel her urgency, because he too moves to remove her pants. He lowers the fabric to her knees and motions for her to lay down so he can finish the task. She does and watches him as he rids himself of his clothes. Then he crawls over her, skimming his hands up her thighs and parting them. Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of him between her legs and it hits her how much she's wanted this ever since it last happened.

Harvey places open, wet kisses on her mound, over her panties. She's already squirming, desperate for contact, until he nudges the lace aside and runs his tongue smoothly up her slit, ending with a swirl around her clit. Donna cries out, hips bucking wildly as one hand fists her sheets. She's torn between keeping him there forever and telling him she wants him now but he makes the decision for her, leaning back and pulling her panties down.

She bites her lower lip in anticipation as he spreads her legs wider, kissing and nipping a trail up her body until he meets her mouth again. They kiss languidly, sharing her taste between them as he positions himself. She feels the tip of his cock against her entrance and nods her permission.

And then he thrusts in one smooth, fluid movement.

She breaks the kiss, gasping at the feeling. He's so perfect, filling her so completely, that she almost wants him to stay right there, frozen inside of her forever.

But then he pulls back slowly and thrusts again, agonizingly slow. She lets out a breathy moan as he buries his face into her neck, laying soft, sweet kisses on her skin. He sets a steady, if slow, rhythm, and every sensation feels like it's amplified tenfold, him moving inside of her, his body on hers, his lips on her ear. His fingertips run up and down her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps, and his nose nuzzles her cheek and she feels a wave of emotion hit her.

This feels like making love.

He's being so gentle, so raw, them moving together feels like a meeting of souls, the relief she's been looking for for a decade. She suddenly misses him more than anything, misses him for all the years they weren't together and all the years they might not be, depending on how tomorrow goes. She misses him like a part of her has been cut off, and even though he just started, she misses him inside her already.

Her eyes fill with tears and she bites her lower lip, and then he ghosts his lips over jaw and whispers her name and it's all too much.

Her hands find his hips, still moving somewhat slowly, and stop him gently. "Harvey," she whispers, and he pulls back a little, just enough to be able to see her eyes.

She wets her lips, turning her face to his, unable to find his gaze. "Promise me you won't turn yourself in tomorrow," she begs, and she'd been begging before, but that was different. She was begging him to see reason and have faith; now she's begging him not to wreck her, because having him in her bed only to not have him at all anymore for two years is more than she can take. He was swinging before, undecided, and they started this as a swan song but it feels too perfect for a goodbye, and if she's going to lose him, she'd rather stop right now than lose him after she's watched him come on top of her. "Please," she adds for good measure.

He's silent, presumably staring at her, trying to read her, but she still can't look at him, eyes cast downwards at their bodies instead. Despite the pause and the emotional turn the moment took, his dick twitches inside of her and it prompts an inexplicable fresh wave of tears. "Please," she whispers again, turning her face into his neck, still within reach.

It takes a second, but she thinks he hears the admission behind her words, how scared she is of losing not just him but _this_ , how despite the circumstances this feels completely perfect and it will only get better and she cannot experience that level of happiness only to be robbed of it again come daylight. She thinks he feels the same, doesn't want to lose her and this just as much, because she feels his own face turning towards her forehead, his hands tightening on her waist.

"I promise," he murmurs against her skin. She feels him nod slightly. "I promise," he whispers again and relief floods her entire being. She presses her lips into his neck, hands leaving his hips to slide up his back, and her legs wrap more tightly around his middle, encouraging him to move again.

He resumes his thrusts but it feels like their sparse words changed something, because now it feels like they're completely letting go together, opening up to each other, letting each other see all the fear and hope and need. His movements become more purposeful, drilling into her with controlled intensity as she arches into him, panting, nibbling his earlobe. One hand cups her ass and pulls her closer in time with his thrusts and she circles her hips as her own hands press into his back and head, clinging to him.

They speed up, building in rhythm and pressure, her moans becoming higher and his grunts vibrating in the air, until they topple together over the edge.

.

She can feel his chest heaving beneath her head, their skin still sticky and cool with sweat. They haven't spoken since he rolled off of her, laying down by her side and allowing her to tuck herself into him. It's been a while already, and the magic of before has mostly dissipated, but things feel different between them, as if they've been permanently knocked off course into a new reality.

She feels him shift a little. "Donna," he calls out in a low voice and there's a hidden question in his tone.

She doesn't even consider if it's right or messy or if he wants to or not. She just keeps her eyes closed and nuzzles her nose against his shoulder. "Stay," she says, and it feels monumental.

"Okay," he agrees after a terrifying beat, pulling her close while she wraps an arm around his middle. They fall asleep like that, tangled together, not letting go.

.

Donna wakes up to Harvey squeezing her arm gently as his fingers trace the contours of her face. When she opens her eyes, she finds him close, watching her, a peaceful unguarded expression in his face and the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Hey," he murmurs.

"Hey," she replies, and despite everything there's a giddiness to waking up next to Harvey that defies the direness of the day. It comes rushing through eventually, though, wiping her own smile away.

"I'm sorry, I know it's early, but I need to head home and get ready," he explains, though he makes no move to leave.

“I know,” she nods, looking down at his chest and tracing his clavicle.

“You should probably head to the office instead. Better to have someone running point there. I’ll let you know as soon as we have news,” he continues, and his words make sense but fear grips her suddenly, making her question if this is him trying to clear the path to turn himself in.

She pauses her moves and says what comes out as a doubtful “Okay”.

Harvey must notice her train of thought because he takes her cheek and lifts her face to his. “Hey,” he says, “I promised.”

She looks deep into his eyes, trying to gauge out any doubt or bluff, but all she finds is honesty. Her heart skips a beat and she nods, then lifts up to capture his lips. They kiss chastely, the hand that’s on her cheek caressing it gently, and suddenly last night no longer feels like the end but like a beginning.

Donna hugs him to her for a moment, enjoying the way he buries his face into the crook of her neck, just breathing him in.

“Go,” she says once she pulls back. He gives her another peck and gets up, gathering his clothes. She follows his movements, but the adrenanline of the night catches up to her and her eyelids feel heavy. She still has about an hour before she needs to get up, so she doesn’t fight it, keeping her eyes open just enough to see him.

When he’s done, he turns to her. “I’ll see you later,” he nods once, and it’s meaningful enough that it sounds like he’ll see her later at the courthouse and also later tonight. She shoots him a shy smile and he smiles back and makes his way to the door.

They don’t know it yet, but later that day Harvey will find out Mike decided to turn himself in. He’ll go back on his promise without thinking twice, running to Gibbs’s office, but he’ll be too late, the deal will have been done.

Donna will find out, and her heart will break a little for Mike and for Harvey and for herself, but she’ll forgive him, always.

They’ll have some of the worst days of their lives until Mike gets driven to Danbury and locked away for two years. But they’ll rebuild, together.


End file.
